


let's try again

by babybel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Second first kiss, also warning for suicidal thoughts at the very beginning, its about the Healing ok, post time war but pre 2005 series, warning: there is some blood but not enough to mark as graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybel/pseuds/babybel
Summary: After the Time War, the Doctor can't get over how utterly alone he is. He's the only one of his people left. Then it really hits him- he's the only one left. There's no one to tell him what to do, or stop him. He goes back and finds Jamie again, but there's a problem- Jamie can't remember him.





	let's try again

**Author's Note:**

> me, literally making myself unbelievably sad and full of longing thinking about this concept: v.. vibe check... :'{  
also shout out to the longest single chapter fic i've ever posted! also i literally Refuse to phonetically write accents so . absolutely Not.

So. The Time War was over. He was in a new body, he was a new man, and his mind was telling him that maybe some time alone would be best. After all, he was a monster. He’d just slaughtered an entire race. More, he’d slaughtered two, and one had been his own. He’d killed the Time Lords. 

After regeneration he’d stumbled to the shower and stood under water as hot as the TARDIS would give him until he thought he’d pass out. He scrubbed his new skin raw but he couldn’t get rid of the knowledge that he was a mass murderer. That if Gallifrey died he should have gone with it. That he should be dead he should be dead he should be dead. 

He stumbled out of the shower and felt around in the steam for something sharp. He knew he had scissors in his bathroom. He knew he had razors. He couldn’t find a single thing.

It was the ship, of course. It had to be the ship. Keeping him safe. It was a beautiful gesture. 

It felt like a crime, though, and no matter how kind it was he still kicked and broke everything he could until he was too tired to lift a hand. Then he sat on the floor and leaned his back against the console and sobbed and cried that he was sorry and his voice went hoarse and he kept repeating it. 

Time passed. An indeterminate amount of time, as usually was standard in the ship. But the timelessness was enhanced by the fact that he was so deep in his own thoughts and his own loneliness and his own pain that it could’ve been years. 

And after those years, or minutes, or half an hour or however long it was, when he could finally force his eyes open and make himself stand, he ran a hand over his hair - short now, almost all gone - and made his way to his closet to pull on some clothes. 

He picked the thing that felt most like armor to wear - a jacket, black and leather - and simple garments to go underneath it, and went back out to the console room. 

Piece by piece, he put back what he’d broken, screwed the fragmented console carefully back together and stacked his books and things back up again. He fixed it, and he felt awful, but at least this was something he could fix. 

His head was brutally silent and empty. Always, there had been that presence. That gentle reminder that even if they were far away, his people and his home were there. Now, it was painfully, blindingly just him. He hated it. 

He drifted from place to place, sometimes landing but never getting out of the ship, never even opening the door. The only thought he could think was that he was alone. He was alone, he was alone, he was alone, he was alone. 

Then, one day, when things were starting to hurt less if he could remember not to think about them, it hit him that he was alone. He was sitting on the steps up to the console with a mug of tea, and he realized that he really and truly was. There was no one left to regulate the laws of time. To impose stupid rules, or horrible jurisdictions. No one to exile him, or tell him what to do, or stop him. No one to stop him. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt something in his chest, and he jumped up so quickly he spilled his tea. He had a destination. He had hope, he had hope, he had hope! He flew the ship so recklessly and joyfully that he had to hold onto the console with both hands to stop himself from being thrown to the floor. He’d felt nothing for so long that now, at the slightest hint of something, he felt the best he had in over a hundred years. 

His hearts hammered in his chest as the ship rocketed through time, and his throat was so tight with joy he could hardly breathe. 

He pictured it, as he flew. He’d step out onto the hills and promise he had things to set right. He’d explain it all, after getting out of danger, out of range of any British soldiers who might be present. And he’d fix it. He’d fix it all. 

When the ship landed he ran to the door and put his hands up against it, trying to get an even breath. He’d landed in the same exact location. It couldn’t be more than an hour after… He took a deep breath. He hadn’t been here in centuries. 

He pulled the door open, and looked out across the hills. Wind pulled the grass this way and that, and the air was clouded with musket smoke. It really was exactly how they’d left it. He took in the scattered British soldiers, bayonets out, cutting through the hills. He also took in the man crouched in the greenery, hidden, a blade clutched to his chest. 

The Doctor - because, upon seeing that, he could be that man again, the Doctor - froze. For a second, his hearts stopped beating. Then he took a breath and shouted, “Jamie!”

It was blowing Jamie’s cover, sure, but Jamie could run, and the ship was only around eight yards away. 

Jamie looked up, and there was no recognition in his eyes at all. 

The soldiers spotted the ship, and fired a few shots. 

The Doctor closed the door quickly, hearing the musket balls glance off the outside of the ship. When he knew they were reloading, he opened the door again. “Jamie, come on. You’ve got to- get over here!”

Jamie looked between him and the soldiers for a moment, and then, after a quick shake of his head, got up and dashed over to the TARDIS. He collided with the side of it, having underestimated the time he’d need to slow down and stop. Immediately, he was talking. “Who the-”

“Get in,” the Doctor commanded, and pulled him into the ship, slamming the door shut behind them. He took a moment to let it sink in. This was real. It was actually, really happening, and now there was no one left in the universe who could take it away. If he was the man he was when he first met Jamie he’d do something gentle and fussy like dust Jamie’s shoulders off, or fix his hair. He wasn’t sure he did that anymore, so he put his hands in his pockets instead. 

Jamie was gazing around the ship in awe, and in fear. After a minute, he turned his knife on the Doctor. “What is this place?” he demanded. “What is this? Who are you? How does it-”

“But you remember!” The Doctor exclaimed, growing cold. “I look different, but- it’s- it’s me! They said you’d remember the first-”

“The first what?” Jamie yelled. “I don’t know who the hell you are or how this- how this thing is so large even though it looks-”

“They lied,” the Doctor murmured, to himself. “You must’ve remembered for what, a few minutes? But it faded, didn’t it. Like a dream that seems so vivid, and then you wake up and it’s gone.” He put a hand to his head and was devastated to remind himself he no longer had enough hair to grab and tear at. This wasn’t fair. His chest felt like it had just been crushed with a sledgehammer. 

“What are you talking about?” Jamie pressed. 

“Jamie,” the Doctor said, and took Jamie’s face in his hands. “I thought I could get you back.” 

Jamie was still for a moment - just a moment - and then he pushed the Doctor off. “Who are you?” he asked again, his voice finally a little quieter.

The Doctor stared at him, and all he could picture was Jamie smiling and Jamie laughing and Jamie holding his hand to run and Jamie when he knew him. “I’m- a traveler,” he said slowly. “This thing’s my ship. I call it- well, we’ll get to that later.”

“A ship, is it?” Jamie gave it a once over. “Doesn’t look like any ship I’ve ever seen.” 

“Because those are built for water, yes?” The Doctor resigned himself to an explanation, because no matter if Jamie could remember or not, he was still Jamie. 

“Aye,” Jamie agreed warily. 

“This one isn’t.” The Doctor started up the ramp to the console. 

Jamie ran the few steps to catch up with him and grabbed his arm, walking with him. 

The Doctor felt his chest tighten, because this was what it used to be like. “It’s built for time. And for the stars, and other worlds.”

“You can go to the stars,” Jamie said blankly. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I’ll show you, if you like,” the Doctor offered. 

Jamie finally sheathed his dagger, and stared down at the console. “This is like… a dream.”

“Thank you.” The Doctor chuckled, and tried not to let it hurt too bad.

“No, it’s not- it’s- I’ve had this dream,” Jamie continued, putting a hand on one of the switches. “The rest of it was different but these lights here…” He took a sharp step back. “How is this real?”

“I’m here,” the Doctor answered. “The ship’s here, you’re here.” He made a show of flicking himself, and wincing. “I’m sure I’m real.” 

Jamie just looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. Then why me?”

“What?”

“There were at least thirty men out on that field but you called me by name.”

The Doctor looked back at him, and found it impossible to meet his eyes. “I…” He nodded to himself. “Do you want me to bring you back?”

“No,” Jamie answered, without missing a beat. 

“Right.” The Doctor tried to give him a smile. “I think you should get a bit of rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Jamie protested immediately. Of course he’d say that. “And you didn’t answer-”

“Jamie, please.”

Jamie was silent for a second. Then he said, “Aye, alright.”

“There’s a room you can stay in-”

“I’m staying here.” Jamie dropped into one of the beat-up chairs on the console’s dais. 

“Fine.” The Doctor pulled up a panel of the grid that served as the floor of the console room and reached down into the storage area, eventually coming up with a blanket. He tossed it at Jamie. “Do you want me to prove I can reach the stars in this thing?”

“If you’re already on your way on up there,” Jamie quipped, looking lost.

The Doctor grinned, and it hurt. This wasn’t how he pictured it going, not in the slightest. “You know- I actually am.” He flipped a lever and a few switches, and the ship took off. 

“She’s not very steady, is she,” Jamie yelled over the whirring of the console. 

“Sod off,” the Doctor yelled back, and threw another lever down. 

The ship shuddered just once more, and then was silent. 

“We’re here,” the Doctor pointed out. 

Jamie pulled the blanket around his shoulders and went back down the ramp to the door.   
“Can I just open it?”

“Yup.” The Doctor nodded, and decided that maybe he wouldn’t go down to join Jamie. Again, that was something he would do when he was the man who met Jamie. He was a different man now. So he stayed by the console and watched. 

Jamie opened the door, and stared out at the galaxy. 

They hadn’t gone far - just up somewhere in the Milky Way - but it was still something to see. 

“Wait- but-” Jamie looked back at him for a second, and then out the door again. “How?”

“I told you. It can do this.” The Doctor leaned back against the console, and wondered if there was any way to make this more bearable. Currently, there wasn’t. 

“But those are stars,” said Jamie, and looked back at him again, grinning. “Real stars!”

The Doctor nodded. 

“What are you?” Jamie whispered. 

On impulse, driven by how brain-numbed he’d been the past hundred years, he almost said that he was a soldier. He caught it in time, but just barely. “I’m a traveller, like I told you,” he tried instead. “I’m not from Earth, I’m from… somewhere else. Another planet.” 

“That’s bollocks.” 

“We’re floating in space right now.”

“Well…” Jamie shook his head. “If I put my hand out will I die?”

“What?” The Doctor laughed. It was involuntary, he couldn’t stop it. It was the first time he’d actually laughed since the war began. “No, you’ll be fine. A little chilly, but fine.” 

“Right.” Jamie stuck his hand out of the ship and waved it back and forth. “It just feels like air.”

“There’s an oxygen field around the ship so you can breathe. That’s what you’re feeling.” And he couldn’t help it- he went down to join Jamie by the door. He hadn’t seen the stars through someone else’s eyes in so long. He was slowly becoming less numb, slowly feeling less sick, slowly coming to terms with the fact that even though Jamie didn’t remember him, at least he was still irrevocably Jamie. 

Jamie put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder, and reached out even further. “You could’ve saved my life. Did you think of that?” he asked, and it almost seemed like he was talking to the stars. 

“How’d you mean?” the Doctor asked, and the last time Jamie grabbed his shoulder like this, he’d been young. So, so young. 

Jamie finally stopped leaning out of the ship. “Could’ve been killed, couldn’t I? Today, or tomorrow, or in a week. It was a battle. People were dying.” 

“I wasn’t going to let that happen.” 

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“Not right now. It’s a lot to tell.” The Doctor rubbed his hands together. It was cold. Space was cold. 

Jamie pulled the blanket off him. “Here.” 

“I’m fine.” The Doctor shook his head. “If you leave this door open any longer you’ll need it yourself.”

“I don’t get cold very easily,” Jamie replied, and draped the blanket over the Doctor’s shoulders before sitting down and letting his legs dangle off the edge of the ship and into space. 

The Doctor slowly pulled the blanket off himself and looked at it. Jamie had to remember him. Just subconsciously, or something. He had to. He wondered if Jamie would let him try and read his mind. “Why are you staying with me?”

“You said my name,” Jamie replied. “Specifically my name. I want to find out why.” 

“Fair.”

“You could just tell me.” 

“Really?” The Doctor sat down behind him, looking out at the galaxy over his shoulder. He hadn’t even considered that just telling him was a possibility

“Yes.”

The Doctor sighed, and figured Jamie was owed the truth. He balked at finding words to put his travels with Jamie in. Instead, he said, “I know you. You’ve been here before. You can’t remember it.” 

“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Jamie replied after a second’s pause. 

“I looked different when you knew me.” The Doctor looked down at the blanket, which he was holding in his lap. “But I should- I should feel the same.” But maybe he wouldn’t. Jamie knew him before he got old, and before the war. A lot had changed, and a good portion of those changes had changed him as well. 

“I don’t believe you.” Jamie put a hand to his temple. 

“Can’t blame you.” The Doctor sighed. It made sense not only that the Time Lords’ methods had been thorough enough to get rid of any subconscious memories, but also that he was unrecognizable as who he used to be. 

They sat in silence for a long time, watching slight shifts in the stars. It did get cold. It got freezing. Jamie was shivering, but he wouldn’t let the Doctor give him back his blanket. 

After what felt like hours, Jamie said, “My head hurts.”

“How? Is it a sharp pain?” The Doctor had a thought as to what it could be, and didn’t want to bring it up. Because if what he thought was happening was in fact happening, it would be bad. 

“I don’t know.” Jamie was pressing his temple again. “It just hurts. It’s fine, though. I’ll be fine.” 

Just like Jamie, the Doctor thought. Just like Jamie to say he was fine when he wasn’t. And, he realized, with an unpleasant jolt, he’d taken on that trait with this new body. “You said you’d rest,” he snapped, without realizing he was snapping. And then, quieter, almost to himself, “I should bring you back.” 

“No,” Jamie said sharply. 

“You’re trying to remember things you-” The Doctor stopped. “Everything here is something you’ve already seen or felt, right? And your brain knows it but the actual memories are gone. So there’s this- this war inside your head. And it’s going to hurt, and I can stop it if I bring you back.” 

“I’m not just going to forget you,” Jamie argued. 

The Doctor winced.

“Even if you drop me back in Culloden it’s not like I’ll just stop thinking about this,” he continued, gesturing out at the stars. “It’s a headache. I’ll deal with it.” 

“At least go to bed, will you?” The Doctor stood up, and it hit him again how cold it was. “Close the bloody door, too.” He dropped the blanket over Jamie’s shoulders and then stretched, trying to get some feeling back into his legs. 

“Do you want me here?” Jamie asked, and he closed the door. He was still shivering, and he pulled the blanket tight around him. 

“Course I do,” the Doctor answered. “I asked you to come.” 

“You’re acting-”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.” The Doctor stared down at the console, not registering anything he was looking at. “Go to bed, won’t you? Might help with that headache.” 

Jamie slumped down into one of the chairs near the console. “Very well. Bossy fellow, aren’t you.”

The Doctor snorted. “Am I?”

“Maybe.” 

“I wouldn’t have known.” 

Jamie really did look a few minutes from sleep, lulled by the cold, and he asked, “Would you play me a song?”

The Doctor looked up at him. “Would I what?”

“I don’t know.” Jamie shook his head. “I don’t know. Sorry- don’t bother.” 

“Right.” The Doctor sighed, his hearts too big for his chest in that moment. So he hadn’t been completely erased from Jamie, then. He was still there, if only subconsciously. He wondered if he could still play that old recorder; if, that is, he could even find it. He decided he shouldn’t even try. His hands weren’t made for music anymore.

* * *

He stayed on the other side of the console room, quiet, until Jamie was soundly asleep in the chair - which didn’t take long - and then crossed over to it. He made sure the blanket was tight around Jamie’s shoulders, and considered just picking him up and bringing him to a room. Maybe Jamie’s old room. The ship hadn’t deleted it. 

In his old body, it wasn’t likely that he could pick Jamie up and carry him. In this body, though, it was a possibility. 

He considered it, and stood there, and ended up not even touching him, let alone making a move to pick him up. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, and the thought of doing it when he couldn’t ask Jamie if it was okay made him feel disgusting, because Jamie didn’t trust him anymore. Jamie didn’t even know him anymore. 

So he hoped the chair wouldn’t mess up Jamie’s back too bad, and he went back to the console and landed the ship somewhere hundreds of thousands of lightyears from Earth. He didn’t look at the scanner; he’d do that later. He just took comfort in the fact that there was solid ground somewhere beneath his feet, and let that be enough. 

It was hours before Jamie woke up. Hours alone to think. The Doctor realized that he’d been rash and stupid when he went back for Jamie. He should have known it wouldn’t go well. He should have guessed the Time Lords would have some sort of security measure, that they wouldn't let him just have it all back. He decided that if Jamie’s headache got any worse he’d bring him back, and then immediately stopped thinking about it so it wouldn’t hurt as much. 

He wondered if there was anything he could do. He knew there were still traces of those memories somewhere inside Jamie. He didn’t like looking into people’s minds, but that was an option. Just to see what was there, and what he could try to bring back. 

Even if Jamie could remember everything, the Doctor wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t recognize him. Having Jamie here was just proving to himself how utterly different he was now. How stiff and angry he’d become. When he was with Jamie, he used to flit from planet to planet and time to time, smiling and dancing and being utterly carefree. Now, he was folded into himself, in an unfamiliar, sharp body. Arguably, he was an incredibly evil thing. 

But Jamie’d put that hand on his shoulder just like he used to, just like nothing had even happened. 

He shook it off. Just because Jamie didn’t know better than to touch him didn’t give him the license to feel any less guilt.

When Jamie finally did wake up, it felt like an eternity had passed. 

He sat up in the chair and pushed his blanket off. “Anything happen while I was sleeping, Doctor?” he asked, running his hands over his face and rolling his shoulders, wincing. 

“We’re somewhere new. New planet,” the Doctor answered, and then it hit him that he’d never told Jamie his name, and he was reminded that perhaps, things would be okay. “A billion million miles from Earth. Doesn’t matter, though. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” Jamie went over to join him by the console. “I still don’t quite believe you. This doesn’t feel like another planet.” 

“I’ll show you in a second.” The Doctor hoped that whatever was outside the ship’s doors was something good. “First- can I look into your head?”

“No,” Jamie said immediately, taking a few steps back. “You’re not getting anywhere near me if you’re trying to cut me open.” 

“What? If I’m trying to-” The Doctor burst into laugher. Classic, classic Jamie. Not that he was to blame. He didn’t know any better. “No, I have a- trick, sort of. I’m not from Earth, I can- I can see your thoughts if I put my hands here.” He pressed a finger to his own temple, still laughing. 

“Well,” Jamie said defensively, squaring his shoulders, “I didn’t know.” 

The Doctor nodded, biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing more. “You can still say no. I just want to… see. Remember when I said you’ve been here before?”

“Not in real life,” Jamie replied. “I’ve been here in dreams. Never in real life.”

“I’m going to see if I can change your mind about that,” the Doctor said carefully. 

Jamie stared at him, right into his eyes, for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I don’t see why I should stop you trying. Won’t work. I know what’s real and what’s not.” 

“And I bet before you stepped into my ship you didn’t think space travel was real,” the Doctor responded, taking the few steps over to Jamie. He held out his hands. 

“Aye, fair that.” Jamie grabbed the Doctor’s hands and put them to the sides of his head. “Go ahead, then.” 

The Doctor nodded, and was suddenly nervous. “Right, so- anything you don’t want me seeing, put it behind a door and close it. Got that?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you seeing things?” Jamie asked, closing his eyes. 

“Because I’m a stranger,” the Doctor answered, and the words felt like a splinter digging into his chest. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Fine. Okay. If it hurts, I want you to tell me right away. You have to tell me,” the Doctor insisted. He could never, ever forgive himself if he hurt Jamie. “Swear you’ll tell me.” 

Jamie nodded. 

The Doctor closed his eyes as well, and opened the connection. 

Sifting through someone’s memories was always strange. He felt like he shouldn’t be doing it; like he was out of place. He saw Jamie’s mother and father through a younger Jamie’s eyes. He saw war, naturally. Jamie was a soldier. He saw Jamie’s entire life, and in between the memories he saw traces of himself. Just tiny wisps of moments and conversations and thoughts, mostly gone, but still somehow hanging on. 

That explained why Jamie was taking such extraordinary things in stride, getting accustomed so quickly. It also explained why Jamie already trusted him, at least to a degree, and why he wasn’t demanding answers to everything. He was already subconsciously used to it all. 

The Doctor grabbed onto those wisps and tried to pull them to the forefront of Jamie’s mind, supplementing all the missing pieces with his own recollection of events. 

This was incredible- if he could do this, and do it successfully, he could reverse it. He could get those memories back. It was difficult, but possible, and it was going well, and then all of a sudden the connection was snapped off. 

The Doctor opened his eyes.

Jamie was leaning on the console, having fallen out of the Doctor’s grasp. “I’m sorry, it was just- a lot-” he mumbled through gritted teeth. He had a hand pressed to his head, and a trickle of blood was leaking from his nose. “I didn’t mean to mess it up, I-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” demanded the Doctor, and he felt horror creep over his body.

“I didn’t want you to-”

“You said you’d tell me if it was hurting you,” the Doctor roared, grabbing Jamie and pulling him upright. He just had to see his eyes. You could tell if someone’s brain was really fucked by looking in their eyes, and he just had to see the damage he’d done. 

“I remember,” Jamie yelled back, at the same volume. He grimaced, wiping his nose, and the blood made a neat red streak on his sleeve. Then he pulled the Doctor into a tight hug. 

The Doctor was frozen. “That’s… impossible,” he finally said. Jamie’s breath on his shoulder made him feel like a real person again. 

“Not everything.” Jamie let him go, and wiped his nose again, which was still bleeding. “Not much, even. But- the ship. It’s the TARDIS, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the Doctor answered cautiously, trying not to get his hopes up. 

“And you’re the Doctor, and- there were other people but they… they left.” He was glaring hard at nothing, trying to focus and recall. “I hardly remember any of it, but… I… you were right. I was wrong. I have been here before.”

“You said you dreamed about the ship,” the Doctor said, comparing the sizes of Jamie’s pupils in a way he hoped was discreet. “Tell me about those dreams.” 

Jamie looked down and shook his head. “No, they weren’t- I think it was just me trying to remind myself of this place.”

“Hey, stay still and look at me.” The Doctor sighed, guilt sinking into him. “If you don’t want to tell me about the dreams, tell me about anything. Just- keep talking.” 

“Alright,” Jamie said hesitantly, holding the cuff of his sleeve against his nose. “When I was-”

“Alphabet,” the Doctor interjected. “Do your alphabet.” 

Jamie sighed, and recited the alphabet. 

“You should have told me it was hurting you,” muttered the Doctor, glaring at Jamie’s eyes, first one then the other.

“I’m fine,” Jamie replied. “It wasn’t bad.”

“It clearly was, wasn’t it, so-”

“I’m fine,” Jamie repeated. “I’ll stop bleeding in a minute and I’ll be fine. Let’s go see what’s out there.” He gestured back towards the ship doors. 

And it was possible that Jamie could very well be fine. His pupils were the same size, and they weren’t too large or too small. He was talking perfectly coherently, and he did his alphabet well. But the Doctor had a feeling that there must be something wrong. There had to be. “Fine,” he said. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Jamie answered in a way that made it sound like an argument, and took a few steps to demonstrate. 

“And your headache-”

“It’s gone.”

The Doctor sighed. “Jamie-”

“It’s not bad,” Jamie amended. He took his hand away from his nose and waited a second. “I’m not even bleeding anymore.” 

“Jamie.”

“Doctor,” said Jamie. He smiled. “Let’s go.”

The Doctor shook his head. Maybe it really was just his need to find something to feel guilty about that was telling him he’d hurt Jamie badly. “Fine. If you pass out I’m leaving you behind.”

Jamie laughed. “I don’t think you would, though.” 

“How much do you remember?” asked the Doctor. “About me.” 

Jamie’s face flushed. “Not much. Just- not much.” 

“Really?”

Jamie nodded, and wouldn’t look at him. “Are we going to see where we’ve landed, then?”

The Doctor could keep pushing to figure out what exactly Jamie remembered, to avoid a surely awkward conversation about it later, but he figured there was no point. There was a brand new planet out there, and the man he was now was a man who rushed into things head on. “Absolutely.”

He held the ship’s door open for Jamie, and then followed him out onto the planet they’d landed on. 

That planet, as it turned out, was beautiful. Some strange mix in aesthetics of ancient Rome and medieval England. The people were kind. Jamie was happy. Of course, something went wrong. Something beautifully simple and fixable and exciting. Something just like their old adventures. 

The guards of the place they landed in turned out to be robots hiding in robes, who were trying to take over the city and get rid of all living inhabitants. Typical. 

They handled it, like they always did. It was invigorating and gripping and, honestly, fun. There were a few moments that made the Doctor feel like who he was before the war, and that was unbeatable. Just after they’d unmasked the first robot, they’d had to run, naturally. Jamie had grabbed his hand out of what must have been instinct, and it sent a shock through him that reminded him of the fact that he was a living being. The war had numbed him to the point where a simple hand in his was the thing that told him he was still alive. 

Jamie was a hero, though, by nature, and there had been instance upon instance where he’d try to stay and fight, and the Doctor had to drag him away. He’d never been big enough to drag Jamie away from a fight when they first traveled together. He used to just try and hope Jamie would come along. Now, he could really pull him along if he was putting himself in unnecessary danger. Still, having Jamie stand between him and one of the robots, knife drawn, was a gentle message that he wasn’t wholly evil. That someone still saw him as good. Good enough to save, at least. 

When the robots were all dismantled and their control signaler was permanently shut off, the two of them slipped away and ran before people could find them and thank them. They tumbled back through the ship’s doors, breathless and high on victory, one of Jamie’s hands held tight around the leather of the Doctor’s jacket, the other still holding his knife. 

“I told you I’d be fine,” Jamie said, leaning back against the doors, still catching his breath. 

“Jamie, you weren’t fine,” the Doctor replied, pulling him into a hug. “You were fantastic!”

Jamie laughed, and dropped the knife so he could hold the Doctor as hard as the Doctor was holding him. “Is it like that every time?”

“Nearly.” The Doctor let go of him, and couldn’t stop smiling. 

“What do you do the rest of the time?” Jamie asked, and he sounded like some of the adrenaline was leaving his body. His voice was a little more even, his smile wasn’t gone but was dampered. “Like before you go out and do that? Or after?”

“How do you mean? We just… find another planet. Do it again.” 

“What about dinner?” It seemed a genuine question. “Do you ever have dinner?”

The Doctor burst out laughing, and hugged Jamie again. It struck him that he was happy. He took a step back and straightened his jacket out. “Do you want to do dinner? We can do dinner if you’d like. There’s…” Earth, he decided. But in the future, not Jamie’s time. “I’ll take us somewhere. You should change your clothes.” 

“What?” Jamie looked down at himself. 

“You’ve got blood all over that sleeve from your nose this morning,” the Doctor told him. “If you want to scare people half to death, leave it on, but…”

“I’ll change if you change,” said Jamie. 

“But this is my nice jumper.” The Doctor frowned at him. “Are you really-”

“Yes.” 

The Doctor sighed. “We might as well do the time we’re going to, then. Blend in.” 

Jamie snorted. “Very well.” He picked up his knife and stuck it back on his belt. “Let’s go.” 

* * *

Jamie in 2030 was an odd sight. It wasn’t that he was out of place; on the contrary, it was that he fit in so well. Besides the fact that he was staring at everything, and that he kept nudging the Doctor to point out ordinary things like shops. He was human, just like everyone else. He had on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt and he looked like a completely normal man. And he was still happy. Just as happy as he’d been fighting the robots. 

It made the Doctor realize that maybe this wasn’t a mistake. As long as Jamie’s headache didn’t get too bad, as long as his nose didn’t start bleeding again… 

The war felt more definitely over and in the past with Jamie there. 

They ended up just getting chips and the woman at the counter called them a couple and they watched the sun set from a pier jutting out into the river. 

“What do you think of the future?” asked the Doctor, once the sun was down and the wind had started to pick up over the river. 

“Too many people and not enough space,” Jamie answered. “I do like it, though.” 

“Impossible to please,” the Doctor muttered, chuckling

“I said I liked it.” Jamie laughed, shoved him. Then he straightened up quickly, his smile dropping, and he said, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

_ You do know me _, the Doctor wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Don’t think too hard about it.” 

“I want to remember, though,” Jamie pressed. “I know the name of the ship, and I know what to call you and how I- but I don’t know anything.” 

“You’ve tried to remember enough for today, alright?” The Doctor wanted to put an arm around Jamie’s shoulder and tuck into him but, as he was constantly reminded, he wasn’t the man he used to be. “Give it a rest. Maybe try again tomorrow.”

“But why can’t I remember you if you can remember me?” asked Jamie. 

The Doctor froze. If he told Jamie about his people, he’d have to tell him about the war. He couldn’t do that. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Another story for another time.” And because he didn’t like the man he was now, and fuck it, he - at least tonight - preferred the man he used to be, he put an arm around Jamie and pulled him close to his side. 

They sat like that until it got too cold, and then they made their way slowly back to the ship.

“Do me a favor,” the Doctor said, holding the door for Jamie, “and sleep in a bed tonight.” 

“If something happens I want to be here, though,” Jamie argued. “What if you need me?”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” The Doctor took him by the arm and led him out of the console room and down the hall. “And I’m good at handling things, so even if something does, I’ve got it.” He brought him to one of the ship’s many guest rooms. 

“But-”

“I’ll come and wake you up, how about that?”

Jamie glared at him for a second. “Fine.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me if you’re not there for the night.” The Doctor smiled. 

“Promise me that, will you?” Jamie sounded dead serious. 

The Doctor laughed. “Sure.” 

“Right. Goodnight.” 

“Why do you care?” the Doctor asked, before Jamie could close the door. “I’m really just a stranger, why do you care?”

“I can’t fly your ship. I’d be stuck,” Jamie answered, and after a heavy second grinned. “No, it’s… I can’t remember you, but I know how I- feel about you. You’re a good fellow. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m just saying you’re decent,” Jamie added. 

“Got it.” 

“That’s it, yeah?”

“Yep.” The Doctor wasn’t sure why, but how insistent Jamie was was about to make him laugh. He was so unused to just laughing. “Sleep well, Jamie.”

Jamie gave him a nod. “Aye. You as well.” He closed the door. 

The Doctor retreated to his console room, and knew that if he stayed awake alone and silent for too long he’d start to regret things, and he’d start to hurt. 

So instead he flew the ship about, going from place to place, time to time. He saw the planets and galaxies he parked in on his scanner, and it was entertaining. He compiled a list of places he could bring Jamie, maybe. Someday.

And he still wasn’t sure what he should be feeling. He was guilty for taking Jamie out of his own time and into a place where anything could be a trigger for memories, and therefore harmful. And it was impossibly hard to act like he wasn’t familiar with Jamie, but he had no choice, because Jamie was truly unfamiliar with him. Although sometimes over the past days, there had been moments where Jamie acted like he knew him so well. Times when Jamie’d grabbed his hand, or held onto him, or done something just like he used to. 

It begged the question; was it subconscious recognition or was Jamie just like that, even with people he didn’t know well?

There were definitely some subconscious memories at play. And as for Jamie being immediately friendly, if the Doctor thought back to the first time they met he’d been rather like that then as well. 

The Doctor laughed to himself, watching a bustling alien marketplace on the scanner. You didn’t meet Jamies every day, that was for sure. He was trusting. Loyal to a fault, and almost immediately so. Thinking about how good he was made the Doctor’s chest ache. 

He made stops at a few more planets, never getting out, just to see, and then brought the ship into a safe, unoccupied spot in a distant, quiet galaxy, and parked it in between the stars. Only then did he open the doors and look out for himself. 

The galaxy was beautiful. Colored gasses hung in clouds, halfway through star formation but not quite there yet. The stars themselves shone through pillars of space dust and gas, tiny pinpricks of light scattered through the scene. The Doctor sat in the doorway and marveled at it. 

Odd, how things were suddenly beautiful again. 

And, also odd; the thought crossed his mind, just fleetingly, just barely, that the war maybe wasn’t the end of everything. There was still an entire universe out there, and more than half of it he’d never seen before, not ever. There were stars to see that had never been seen before by living eyes. There was music he’d never heard. Billions and billions of people still to meet. He was glad, he realized, that the ship hadn’t let him hurt himself right after the war. 

He ran a hand along the door, and hoped that would be alright for thanks, and it hit him that something was wrong. 

He sprang up, seized by a sudden panic, and ran back to the console. He wasn’t sure what, but something was bad. Something was off. Something shouldn’t be happening. Something wasn’t okay. 

“Jamie?” he called, trying to force himself through the ‘maybe it’s nothing, you’ve been wrong before’ thought pattern. He stayed still for maybe four seconds before sprinting from the console, down the hall, and to Jamie’s room. 

He pulled the door open. “Jamie?”

The room was dark. Jamie was sitting up in bed, the light from the hall just barely touching him. He had both hands held over his face. 

The Doctor ran over to him, and knelt beside the bed. So, the ship had been warning him.

Jamie was too pale. His hands were clamped tight over the lower half of his face, and blood oozed through the cracks between his fingers. The most worrying thing, though, about this very worrying picture was that he was crying. Jamie never cried, not ever. 

“What happened?” The Doctor tried to get Jamie to look at him. 

“Am I dying?” Jamie asked in response. His face was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he sounded utterly panicked, and like every word hurt beyond belief to say. 

“What did you do?” the Doctor asked, putting a hand to Jamie’s forehead. 

“I just- thought-” Jamie choked on a sob. “It hurts.”

“I know.” The Doctor gently pulled Jamie’s hands away from his face, and winced. 

His nose was bleeding again, and much worse than before. He was shivering, too, like he’d been out in the cold for too long. 

The Doctor pulled open the bedside drawer and took out a handkerchief- the ship always made sure there were handkerchiefs, remembering when he used to use them. He wiped the blood off Jamie’s hands, and then off his face, holding the cloth to his nose. 

“I don’t want to die,” Jamie said through gritted teeth. 

“You’re not going to,” the Doctor promised, and he was terrified. He pressed his forehead to Jamie’s, and was smacked immediately by the pain. He pushed past it as quickly as he could, and when he did he saw that Jamie’s head was swimming with memories. 

He didn’t have time to wipe Jamie’s mind, nor did he ever want to do that, even though it seemed almost like the best option here. Instead of considering it, though, he conjured up a sort of room somewhere deep in Jamie’s cortex and shoved the memories, one by one, inside. A door, then. Shut and locked. All the memories put away. Not permanently, but at least for now. 

He leaned back, broke the connection, and allowed himself a breath. “Better?”

Jamie gingerly let himself fall back onto his pillows, his breathing slowly mellowing out. He brought a hand up to his temple. “It’s gone,” he murmured. He took the bloody handkerchief off his face, and blew out a long sigh. “I just wanted to remember.”

“Course you did.” The Doctor brushed Jamie’s hair off his forehead. “Stupid. That’s what you are. You’re plain stupid.” 

Jamie nodded, eyes still closed. 

The Doctor sat on the bed next to him. “I’m staying.” 

“Good.” Jamie was clearly still out of it, clearly still recovering. After a minute, he added, “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Nah, that’s not right,” the Doctor replied, and he was overcome with relief. He’d gotten there in time. Jamie would be fine. And, because if he was honest, he was pretty sure this night would be a very cloudy memory for Jamie, if he remembered it at all, he said, “I think you’re the one who saved me, James. Don’t think I was really living before I picked you up.” 

Jamie grimaced. “Don’t call me James.”

The Doctor laughed under his breath. “Yes, sir.” 

Jamie was still holding a hand to his head. “Will this happen again?”

“Don’t worry about it. Don’t even think about it, alright?” The Doctor got up and closed the door. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He came back to the bed, and sat so Jamie could feel the mattress move under his weight, could know he was there without opening his eyes. 

Jamie reached out a hand, and the Doctor took it. 

Things were quiet then, and dark, until morning. The Doctor didn’t move all night, and didn’t think about going to sleep, either. He had to be awake and there just in case Jamie woke up, not to mention he hadn’t slept since he got out of the war, not once. He sat there, and his shoulders started aching, and he didn’t move. 

So. Jamie couldn’t remember. He couldn’t let Jamie remember. He could do that, he figured. It could work. He wasn’t sure what his relationship with love was now, after the war, but before, when Jamie knew him, he had love for everyone and everything and still had more love to spare. He’d loved Jamie so dearly, adored him like anything. Now, he was so unwilling to reach into that part of himself he couldn’t begin to lay claim to love, and what he thought of it, and what he felt it for. This, however, seemed to connect to that directly, somehow. It was so unfair. It hurt. Everything hurt, these days. 

The ship told him when a suitable night had passed and morning should come by putting lights on, gently, one by one. Because he was in a mood, he pressed a kiss to Jamie’s forehead. He supposed he was the kind of person who did forehead kisses now. It was weird, finding out the simplest things after so long just because he’d been alone for all the time he’d been in this body. 

He had half a mind to leave, sure that Jamie would be fine, but he’d said he would stay, so stay he did. He looked around the room, bored and searching for something to occupy his attention. 

He’d have to tell Jamie he couldn’t remember. They’d have to start again. Start over. That was okay, he told himself. Better than no Jamie at all, or Jamie here but dead. 

He waited until Jamie was half awake, said good morning, and left. He was at least a few steps outside the door when he heard Jamie call him. “What?” he called back. 

“Come back,” Jamie yelled through the door. 

The Doctor sighed, and went back, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Don’t sod off before I can say good morning to you,” Jamie told him, getting out of bed. “Good morning.”

“That it?” The Doctor smiled. 

“Aye. You can go now.” 

The Doctor laughed, and went over, grabbing Jamie and pulling him into a hug. “Good morning, Jamie.” 

“Uh, good morning, Doctor.” 

It was one of those very present moments. The Doctor could feel the stars around them shift by millimeters in their constant, gradual march. He could feel his own heartbeats, but more importantly he could feel Jamie’s, and he could feel Jamie’s breath on his shoulder and he could feel Jamie, there and with no one to take him away, in his arms. It was settling. 

“You need a haircut,” Jamie said, when the Doctor finally let go of him. His face was flushed. 

The Doctor ran a hand over his head. The thing about hair this short, he reasoned, was that it grew fast. He probably looked silly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I could do it,” Jamie offered. “If you want me to.” 

With no reason why, the Doctor knew that this was a turning point. What he said now mattered. Or maybe he was just thinking too much. He did that a lot. He said, “Sure,” and hoped it was right. 

Ten minutes later saw him sat in a chair, a towel around his shoulders. 

Jamie was looking at his clippers, turning them over and over. “What planet’s this from?”

The Doctor snorted. “Your planet. From your future, but still. Earth.”

“Ah.” 

The Doctor realized, as Jamie started cutting his hair, that it probably wasn’t wise to hand clippers to someone who’d never seen clippers before in his life and expect to come out looking decent. A second later, he realized he didn’t really care. He’d spent the majority of his lives looking unbearably stupid. No reason to stop now. 

Actually, when all was said and done, it didn’t look terrible. Uneven, yes. A little silly. Something that, if anyone else were there, would be mildly embarrassing. But it was just them, and honestly there were much worse crimes than a bad haircut. 

“Thanks,” he said, and folded the towel up. 

“Any time.” Jamie was staring at him with this sort of dissatisfied look on his face. “It’s not that good, is it.” 

“Nope.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Nope.” The Doctor grinned. 

Jamie smiled that sort of remorseful smirk he sometimes did, and crossed his arms. “That’s alright, then.” 

The Doctor dropped the towel onto the chair, and sighed. He had to say it some time; it might as well be now. “Listen, Jamie-”

“I’ll never be able to remember,” Jamie said softly, smile not faltering. 

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor tried. He thought he’d have to say it himself, and wasn’t entirely prepared for the fact that Jamie’d already given it enough thought to speak with authority on it. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. You can’t even try. What happened last night will happen again, if you try.”

“Right.” Jamie was still smiling just enough to be completely unreadable. 

“When I- did what I did last night, I put all the memories behind a kind of door in your brain,” the Doctor continued, watching Jamie carefully. “That’s all I can do. I put them there, I closed the door. It’s on you not to open it again. And, Jamie- please don’t be Jamie with this.” 

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “What-”

“I know you’re stubborn, and don’t try to say you’re not. You’re stubborn, and you do things even if they get you hurt, and I need you not to do that here,” the Doctor insisted. “Promise me you won’t open that door.” 

Jamie was silent, and he kept looking at the Doctor and then off at nothing, and then back again. 

“Jamie-”

“Who did this to me?”

The Doctor cleared his throat, and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “My people. From my home planet. Called Gallifrey, not that it matters. Gone now. But… they did it.” 

“Why?” Jamie pressed, still completely unreadable. 

“It was my fault,” the Doctor said slowly. He nodded. “I didn’t do what I was told.” He laughed to himself, bitterly. “I broke their rules a few too many times, and they left me stranded on Earth alone. Dumped you and Zoe - the girl with us - back in your times, after they sucked all those memories out of your heads. They told me you’d remember me, but… I mean, they were always liars. So, yeah. My fault.” 

“If I didn’t want to take that risk I wouldn’t be with you,” said Jamie. “You didn’t want it to happen, don’t kick yourself about for it.”

The Doctor sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Jamie-”

“I promise,” Jamie said, and the way he said it, it could’ve been the final note of an argument. He had a way with making it seem like he was fighting something even when he wasn’t. “I promise I won’t try and remember.” 

The Doctor sniffed, and nodded. He didn’t know why this was the moment his throat chose to close up. “Good,” he managed. 

“Will you dock the ship somewhere?” Jamie asked, and while a second ago he’d been doing everything firmly and almost defiantly, now he seemed almost embarrassed to make the request.

“Land, not dock,” the Doctor muttered. “Not a water ship, remember?”

Jamie nodded, twisting his mouth to the side so he could bite the inside of his cheek. 

“And just anywhere? Or…”

“Somewhere with cliffs,” Jamie said, and the Doctor knew he meant Scotland. 

* * *

The Doctor had landed the ship somewhere remote enough that no one would stumble upon it, nestled between the grassy hillocks shrouded in mist. Jamie had thanked him and told him he’d only be a moment, and practically ran from the ship. 

Couldn’t blame him. The Doctor sat in one of the console’s chairs and ran his hands over his newly clipped hair and wondered if this would be it. The concept of the past used not to hold much meaning for him. He could go back; it didn’t matter. 

Now, of course it did. There were things he couldn’t change, and things he couldn’t fix. Coping with anything was hard, but that was one of the hardest things to figure out how to live with. 

He waited upwards of an hour and Jamie still wasn’t back, so he stepped out of the ship and onto the ground. It was nice having a solid planet beneath your feet. He walked to the edge of the cliff they’d landed atop, and spotted Jamie sitting there, legs over the edge.

The Doctor looked down over the cliff’s edge to the water, far below. He nodded to Jamie’s position. “Playing it a little risky, aren’t you?”

“Hello, Doctor.” Jamie looked more humble than he’d really ever looked before. 

The Doctor tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “You want to go home, don’t you.” 

Jamie sighed. “Not really.”

The Doctor blinked. “You don’t-”

“No.” Jamie gave a little shrug. “If you’re going to keep running into trouble like we did you’ll need me to look after you.” 

“I’m pretty good at looking after myself, actually,” the Doctor replied, not sure if it was true or not. No, it wasn’t. The only reason he was alive was because his ship was looking after him. 

“No, I know a soldier when I see one, alright?” Jamie snapped. 

The Doctor took a step back, hearts thundering in his chest. If Jamie could see that on him, what else was apparent? Could people look at him and see a murderer? His skin began to crawl.

Jamie shook his head, shrugging again. “Sorry, I didn’t… I’m just saying I know what it’s like. I can help, if you want. At least I can- listen, or be there, or- something. I don’t know. I’m not going to let you go through it alone.”

“Why not?” the Doctor demanded, still thrown off his rhythm a bit. 

“Because the only thing I can remember about you is that when we first met you didn’t let me go through it alone either.” Jamie pulled his scarf up over his chin and muttered, “Bloody freezing out here.”

The Doctor let that statement settle in his chest. He’d known so little of war and human nature and even of loss and the need to heal when he’d met Jamie. He hadn’t even considered that Jamie had just come out of a war, and had been working through the consequences of that. He let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, and he knelt down next to Jamie. “Nice view, though.” 

Jamie nodded. “Aye.”

It wasn’t clear which one of them moved first, but after a moment they had fallen into each other, Jamie’s head resting on the Doctor’s shoulder, the Doctor’s arm around Jamie’s waist. They looked out over the edge of the cliff, and the only thing breaking the silence was the crash of waves against the rocks far below them. 

The Doctor breathed in sharp, ocean air, and realized that maybe it was time he stopped blaming himself for things he did when he didn’t know better. Whether or not he’d actually stop he didn’t know, but in that moment he felt he could begin to be absolved. He finally said, “Thanks for staying with me.”

“Thanks for finding me,” Jamie replied. He fiddled with one of the snaps on the Doctor’s jacket. It was an absentminded gesture. Doing something for the simple sake of doing something. His hand occasionally bumped the Doctor’s chest while he did it. Eventually, he asked, also absentmindedly, “What are we going to do?”

“Go and find trouble?” the Doctor suggested. 

Jamie lifted his head from the Doctor’s shoulder, leaning slightly back to look him in the eyes. He smiled. “That sounds good.” 

And it wasn’t really a realization, more just a reminder; he had loved Jamie so, so much. Well, actually, no, he realized, frozen there because Jamie was looking at him and smiling at him and was so, so close to him. Correction. He did love Jamie. He loved Jamie now. He loved Jamie, present tense. Maybe he wasn’t in love, but he definitely loved. He realized he’d been quiet for too long, and he cleared his throat and managed a, “Should we go?”

Jamie snorted. “You’re daft, aren’t you.” 

Oh, and yes, he was definitely in love. That made his mind up for him. He blinked, got himself out of it. “Yep.” 

“I want to stay here a little bit longer, if it matters.” Jamie looked back out over the water. 

“Sure. Course. Take your time.” The Doctor took a step back in his mind, removed him from his feelings and let himself observe. He noted how comfortable Jamie looked, and how he seemed like he belonged here. It made him relax, seeing how at home Jamie felt. It was like Jamie was letting him know that nothing was going to go wrong, at least not here. He added, “We can come back whenever you want.”

“Thank you.” 

“Would you like me to give you a minute alone? I can go-”

“No, stay.” Jamie’s face flushed. “I mean, if you want to.” 

“Right.” The Doctor followed Jamie’s gaze out over the ocean, and he watched as gusts of wind dented and dimpled the waves. 

After a few more minutes, Jamie took a deep breath, sighed, and stood up. He offered the Doctor a hand, and pulled him up as well. “So. Trouble?”

“Trouble,” the Doctor agreed, and they walked back to the ship together. 

* * *

And they did find trouble, in roundabout ways as always. When they were looking, everything would be neat and clean and perfect. There would be no monsters and nothing to stand against. But when they weren’t looking, when they just let the ship take them somewhere, or when it pulled them off course, they always found trouble. And it was wonderful. They fought demons and monsters and aliens and robots and every time the Doctor stood up to someone horrible and told them off he found another piece of himself. Every time he and Jamie dashed away from something hand in hand he got a little more of himself back. Every time he landed his ship on a brand new planet, he felt a little more like him and a little less like the person the war had turned him into. 

Jamie asked him about the war, and nodded when he said he didn’t feel like talking. When he froze up, as rare as it was, Jamie yanked him out of it. He made Jamie tea every morning, and when Jamie had nightmares, he talked him out of panicking. 

It wasn’t the same as when he travelled with Jamie the first time. Obviously. It couldn’t be the same. But he didn’t want it to be the same, either. It wasn’t trying to be the same. It was something new, and something that clicked just as well. It made him just as happy. 

One night after a taxing adventure on a rocket hurtling towards a star, the Doctor realized, staring at himself in the TARDIS’s bathroom mirror, that if anyone who’d fought in the Time War was left, they wouldn’t recognize him as the soldier he was then. He smiled too much. There was something behind his eyes again. He was in love. He hadn’t taken a life in a long time, and he wasn’t planning to again. 

He was happy, and he went out to the console room to find Jamie and bother him with some joke or a game of cards or something.

The lights in the ship were dimmed, as they often were at night. Jamie sat on the console dais, dangling his feet off the edge. He had a mug of tea in his hands the ship must’ve made for him, and he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

Suddenly, the Doctor didn’t know what quite to do. All of his plans to fool around flew out of his mind. The silence was comfortable, though, and he was fine watching Jamie from across the room. Knowing Jamie was here, and safe, was settling in a way he couldn’t begin to explain. He could’ve stayed there all night, but something moved him, and he crossed the room and went up the ramp and in a second, he was sitting down next to Jamie. 

“Doctor,” Jamie murmured in greeting. 

“Jamie,” the Doctor returned. 

Jamie took a sip of his tea and nodded, staring out at the wall. He swung his feet for a minute, and blew out a sigh. Then he set his mug down next to him and put a hand at the back of the Doctor’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. And it wasn’t just a kiss, it was a kiss kiss. Jamie’s nails raked over the Doctor’s scalp, and he held him close, and tight. 

When they broke apart, the Doctor to a minute to blink and breathe and ground himself. “What-”

Jamie kissed him again, quicker, a little rougher. “I don’t know,” he breathed, finally, “if this is how it used to be or what’s happening now.” 

“Oh, Jamie.” The Doctor hugged him, holding onto him as tightly as he could. “Jamie McCrimmon.” He chuckled gently, breathlessly, and rested his chin on top of Jamie’s head. “Don’t go far from me, you got that?”

“I wouldn’t,” Jamie promised, leaning back and staring him right in the eye. “No one could make me, got it? Not ever. If I’m gone you haven’t got anyone to protect you.” 

“Who said I-”

“Doesn’t matter if you need it or not. If you get into trouble, I need to be there to look after you.” Jamie chewed at his lip. “‘Cause I love you.” 

“You love me,” the Doctor repeated, not quite processing it. 

“Course I do,” Jamie mumbled. 

“Shouldn’t do that, Jamie,” he replied, laughing a bit, and it was painful. “Best not. I’m… not a good person.” 

“Good enough for me.” It was a fierce, sudden statement. As always, it sounded like he was arguing with someone. The way he said it was defensive, and strong, and almost angry. 

It made the Doctor’s chest tighten, and he winced. It felt misleading to let Jamie talk that way about him. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he could be good again, even if he wasn’t now. Hope. Hope was the thing that would, eventually, save him. He put a hand to Jamie’s cheek. “I’d say this is what’s happening now, wouldn’t you?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, I would.” He looked a little nonplussed, but that was a usual expression on him. 

“And you don’t mind that- it used to be different?” the Doctor asked. “And you can’t remember it?”

“If I can’t remember it I can’t remember it,” Jamie said quietly. “I don’t want it to be like it used to be, either. I want it to be how it is now. I want you to be how you are now. I… like this. I wouldn’t switch it out even if I could.” 

The Doctor couldn’t find it in him to breathe, not after hearing that, and because it was, at least in this moment, something he could do, he kissed Jamie again, gently and slowly. He was so out of touch with his own body it had a sort of grounding effect. He wondered if Jamie could tell just from this how much he loved him. When he broke the kiss, he’d found words, and he asked, “What do you want, Jamie?”

“I want you to go to bed,” Jamie answered, almost immediately. 

“What?”

“I want you to go to bed,” he repeated, voice taking on a stubborn authority. “I know you haven’t been sleeping, alright? You never sleep, do you? You’re up when I go to bed and you’re up when wake up, and I know you’re not sleeping sometime in between. I can tell, I’m not that stupid.”

The Doctor floundered. “Well- you’re not-”

“How long’s it been?” Jamie demanded. “Since you had a night’s sleep, how long’s it been?”

The Doctor shook his head. So much time had passed after the war but before he could bring himself to do anything he couldn’t quantify it. “Years,” he murmured. “Maybe.”

“I know you’re an alien, but that’s not right, is it?” Jamie continued. 

The Doctor sighed. “No, it’s not. Would you-”

“Go to bed, then.” 

“Jamie-”

“I don’t care, go to sleep.” Jamie picked his tea back up, and stood. “I’ll go with you, come on.” 

The Doctor stared up at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s going to hit you sooner or later if you keep doing this,” Jamie said. “I know. I’ve stopped sleeping before. Not for years, but… listen, I know it’s a way of hurting yourself. I need you to stop.” 

The Doctor was silent. He’d never thought of it that way before - a way of hurting himself - but the moment Jamie said it he knew it was true. That and fear of what he’d dream. And, really, he was tired. He was so tired. “Jamie,” he said, “I love you.” 

“I adore you, I really do. We’ve said it, will you come with me now?”

And he figured, if nothing else, he owed it to Jamie. He sighed, stood up, and followed Jamie across the room and through the hall.

Jamie opened the door to his bedroom and gestured. “After you.”

“Really?”

Jamie glared at him. 

“Alright.” He chuckled, and stepped inside. 

The room had started as a standard guest room, but over time Jamie had personalized it, made it obviously, visibly his. It was comforting, actually. Reassuring to be in. 

“I’m not going to sleep until you go to sleep,” Jamie said, closing the door behind him and flicking the light off. 

The Doctor tried to make him out in the dark. His eyes would adjust in a moment, but before they did, everything was strangely nonexistent. He resigned himself to at least getting into bed, if not trying to sleep. He pulled off his jacket and his jeans and dropped them on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He kept thinking that there had to be something better he could be doing; anything other than this. Someone probably needed him somewhere, sometime, and he’d miss it. He wanted to go the console and fly. He didn’t, though. He pulled the blankets over him and blinked until he could see. “Jamie-”

“Give me a second to get my shoes off, will you?” Jamie muttered, and after a minute or so he sat on the bed next to the Doctor. “I’ve told you how glad I am you found me, right?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I am,” Jamie said. “Glad, that is. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Come off it.” 

Jamie laid down, throwing an arm over the Doctor’s chest and leaning his head on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I won’t come off it.”

The Doctor sighed, getting his arm under Jamie and pulling him closer. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we.”

“Course.” Jamie grabbed the Doctor’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Course we are.” 

The Doctor laid there, in the dark, and he could feel his heartbeats in the hand Jamie held, feel blood rush through his veins where Jamie’s skin touched his. He was scared to sleep, he realized. He’d known he was scared of dreaming, but now he was scared to sleep as well. He wouldn’t be in control if he was asleep. He had no way of knowing what he might relive. “Jamie,” he whispered, and shame clogged his throat, “I can’t do this.”

Jamie laughed a little. “I’ve seen you do so many wild things. You can do this.” 

“Nope.” The Doctor tried to smile. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

“You know, when I was a wee lad I used to be scared of going to sleep,” Jamie said, and he crossed his arms on the Doctor’s chest, half laying on him, so he could get a good look at him. “I got scared of monsters, and if I was asleep, I couldn’t fight them. But my mum had this song she’d sing and it would knock me straight out every time. Worked like a charm. I could-”

“Jamie, I’m not a kid, I-”

“Shut up,” said Jamie. “Just tell me if you’d like me to sing it or not.”

The Doctor looked at him for a second, then took his face in both hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Sure. Go ahead.” 

“Right.” Jamie smiled, clearing his throat. “Now, my voice is nothing like my mum’s, but…” And he started to sing. It was obviously a lullaby, and it was lilting and gentle and very Scottish. 

The words were in Gaelic, and the ship began to translate them. The Doctor stopped it with a thought. He didn’t need to know what the song was telling him; he could fall in love with how it sounded without knowing what it meant. And whatever it was, he was sure it wouldn’t sound as right when taken out of the original language. 

The song really did work a charm. Jamie wasn’t an outstanding singer, even, and still within the first minute and a half, the Doctor’s breathing slowed, and he started feeling more comfortable, and warmer, and safer. The facts were that it was a beautiful song and that he was exhausted. His body was jumping at a chance to rest. 

Jamie eventually put his head back down on the Doctor’s chest, still singing quietly. He absentmindedly trailed his fingers in swirls and patterns along the Doctor’s shoulder and collarbone.

The Doctor felt calm, blessedly so. Jamie’s weight on him was grounding, and the blankets were pulled up around them perfectly. He realized, a little understatedly, that he was about to fall asleep. He buried a hand in Jamie’s hair. “I’m never going to let myself lose you again,” he murmured. “Ever, you hear?”

“Good,” Jamie replied. 

“And I love you.”

Jamie laughed a short, proud laugh. “I love you too.” Then, after a few moments of silence, he returned to his song, this time forgoing the words and just humming it. 

And the Doctor closed his eyes, and let himself sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> me, crying: i just. love them so much. also. me? reuse dialogue straight from the war games? it's more likely than you think
> 
> find me on tumblr @lesbiandonnanoble !


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